


I'll Call You Right Back

by WakeupSoon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeupSoon/pseuds/WakeupSoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan’s away, Courfeyrac misplaces his phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Call You Right Back

**Author's Note:**

> I am Courf. My BFF is Jehan. This happens way too often.

They’d been apart for too long. Honestly, it had only been two weeks, but by the couple’s standards that was pretty much an eternity. It was definitely the longest they’d been apart since they’d officially started dating three years earlier. 

It was Jehan’s fault, Courfeyrac thought as he walked back to their apartment after a long day at work. He could have taken a different tube and gotten off a lot closer to home, but that would have meant being there alone for longer. So, instead, he’d opted for a different route - one that dropped him off nearly two miles away. 

It was Jehan’s fault he was going home to an empty apartment anyway. 

Stupid book tour. Stupid press release. 

Sometimes, Courfeyrac wished Jehan was a terrible writer, but that wish never settled. It didn’t even hover most of them time. Truthfully, he wouldn’t change a thing. 

Except maybe the invention of jetpacks. That would be useful. They wouldn’t have to be apart for more than a few hours at a time then. 

The worst part was that Courfeyrac couldn’t just call his lover whenever he wanted to. It was something that happened often: Courfeyrac would get bored, and before he’d even realised what he was doing he would be dialling the same number he always did. It didn’t even matter that they would be seeing each other 10 minutes later, if Courfeyrac was bored, he was calling Jehan. This was a fact that Jehan’s agent was all too familiar with, and able to stop. 

The shrew had blocked his number. 

So now Courfeyrac was starting his trek home, staring at his phone, just  _willing_  for it to ring. 

He couldn’t believe his luck when it did. 

_♫ You and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals, so let’s do it like they do on the discovery channel.. (say it again now) ♫_

An old woman passing by stared at him incredulously as he fumbled to answer, almost dropping his phone in the process. 

“Hey, yep, hi!” Courfeyrac all but panted, a little out of breath as he flipped the woman off behind her back. 

There was a pause on the other side before Jehan spoke, “Are you OK, Courf?” He asked, finally, and Courfeyrac could practically here the eyebrow being raised 200 miles away. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Erm.. ringtone.” 

Courfeyrac definitely heard his poet falling backwards onto a soft surface (a bed in his hotel room, he presumed) as his laughed rumbled down the phone. 

“You could just put the thing on silent, you know.” Jehan berated lightly. 

This time Courfeyrac could hear him making himself comfortable. He himself dodged a cyclist as he replied, “But its so much effort with this phone case!” 

Jehan’s laugh twinkled again. 

They carried on talking for a while like they usually did when Courfeyrac wasn’t at home (because you can bet damn sure that if he wasn’t out in public the conversation would quickly have deteriorated into short breaths and shorter silences, before a final release and a beg for the poet to  _for the love of God please come home sooner_ ). The couple talked about their days in their respective ends of the country, Jehan adding passing notions of the sunlight hitting some fountain in a certain way (it had been very poetic when he’d said it of course, but Courfeyrac couldn’t remember the exact phrasing) and Courfeyrac mentioning the atrocious outfit their new receptionist had come into the office in that day (“Seriously, Jehan, it was worse than you in first year. Its an international company,  _how_  are Union Jack leggings appropriate!?”). 

Eventually, Courfeyrac neared their apartment, and started to dig his keys out of his bag. 

“What’s that shuffling? Are you OK?” Jehan mumbled into his end of the receiver, blocking it slightly as he leant over to paint the next toenail along. 

“Yeah, yeah. Nearly home. Just trying to find my keys but..” he lifted up the bag, shaking it and peering inside, “Can’t hear the jangle.” 

Jehan started, “Have we really been on the phone that long!?” He looked across the room for the digital alarm clock all these places had, sighing, “45 minutes. It doesn’t feel like that long. Angelina will be here soon. I have an interview on Radio 4 this evening.”

Courfeyrac muttered ‘shrew’. Jehan elected to ignore the comment. 

There was silence on the metropolis end of the call. 

“Courf? You still there?” 

“I found my keys.” 

“Good? What’s the ‘but’ here, babe?” 

“I can’t find my phone.” 

“Courf..” 

“No, no, seriously, its not in my bag.”

“Courf.” 

“Or any of my pockets.” 

“You can’t be seriou-“ 

“What if I left it at work!? That’s all the way across town. Look, I’ll call you back ok. Before you head off. I promise.” 

He was gone before Jehan could say anything more, and the poet was left lounging in a hotel room, staring at the phone his partner’s was unable to connect to. 

200 miles away, Courfeyrac looked down at the phone is his hand. His mouth opened slightly in shock as he tried to call back. He cursed the shrew again. 

Jehan took 10 deep breaths and redialled. 

“It was in the bottom of my bag.” 

Jehan laughed, “Really? That’s what you’re going with?” 

“Yep, trapped under my diary.” 

“I love you.” 

“Thanks. I love me, too.” 


End file.
